


watermelon juice

by spacetriangles



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Summer, Watermelons, take a guess as to what this is gonna be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetriangles/pseuds/spacetriangles
Summary: Minho really can not stand this heat any longer. Thank the heavens that his one and only true friend Felix helps him out and makes one of the worst days ever into something more bearable.





	watermelon juice

**Author's Note:**

> this is so gross i'm really sorry.

It’s so hot. So fucking hot, Minho is about to lose his damn mind. Not only does it happen to be the hottest week of the summer, but it also happens to be the week that their AC decides to just die on them, leaving Minho and his family rotting inside of the cursed house. Truly, he thinks he must have done something horrible in his past life to deserve this kind of suffering.

 

He can’t do this anymore. Minho opens his phone and sends a text to his group chat, begging for somebody to take him in for the day. It takes an excruciating seven minutes before somebody replies, and it’s just Jisung telling him that he’s more than welcome to come to his summer class, where they might be suffering, but at least there’s air conditioning. Minho’s face twists in disgust because there’s _no_ way he’s stepping anywhere _near_ that establishment. A small part of him does think that maybe it would be better than being stuck in his current situation, but he has too much pride to admit that, so he replies to Jisung with “guess i’ll die.”

 

Half an hour later, to Minho’s absolute rage, half of his group chat left him on read. He can’t fucking believe this. Not a single one of his so called “friends” want to help his poor soul out. This is it. This is how he cuts all of them out of his life. He has no need for such toxic people in his presence. His screen lights up and Minho loses his train of thought, immediately opening the message.

 

 **11:42 AM, felix:** lol i just woke up but you can come over to my place if you want

 

 **11:42 AM, meanho:** YES. im on my way

 

Minho immediately gets up and throws on the thinnest black shirt he owns and goes to splash his face with cold water, just to get rid of all of the gross sweat on it. Not that it matters, because he feels it forming again two minutes later when he asks his mom to drive him to Felix’s place. There’s no way he’s taking the bus.

 

His mother sighs and says, “If you got your license, you wouldn’t need to ask me to drive you around.” Minho tries his best to not make a face. He’s too gay to drive, but that’s not an argument she would understand.

 

When he hops out of his mother’s car and runs up to Felix’s front door to ring the bell, a sense of joy fills him. He’s just so damn excited for air conditioning, he thinks he might cry. A couple of moments later, the door opens and Minho wastes no time throwing his arms around his unsuspecting friend.

 

“Felix!” he coos happily, well aware of the fact that his sweat is rubbing off on the younger boy, who hugs him back for a second before immediately recoiling.

 

“Oh, dude. Oh no,” he whines, face twisted into an expression of disgust. “You are _so_ fucking sweaty, do not touch me.”

 

Minho laughs and throws an arm over Felix’s shoulder, feigning ignorance. “What are you talking about? Can’t I hug my good buddy, my only friend who cares about me?”

 

As Felix closes the front door, trying to squirm away from Minho’s hold, he says, “What even makes you think I care about you?” Minho pretends to be offended, then they both burst into a fit of giggles. “Seriously, though. You’re disgusting, don’t touch me and in fact don’t touch anything in this house until you’re not as,” he pauses, looking for the right word, “moist.”

 

“Cool,” Minho replies. “Let’s play Mario Kart, I’m in the mood.” He makes his way towards the living room, as if he owns the place, and Felix sighs but follows. “Are your parents home?” Minho asks, searching for the right disk.

 

“I think they went grocery shopping,” Felix answers, plopping down on the couch and letting Minho do all the work. “I’ve never seen you be so willing to get your ass beat. You suck at video games,” he teases.

 

“That’s what you think.” Minho turns on the TV and sits down next to Felix, handing him a remote.

 

Perhaps Felix was right. Minho is indeed kind of really bad at this, always ending up in 6th place or worse. The one time he managed to get ahead, of course he had to get hit by a blue shell, and the only thing he was able to feel was pure, unfiltered anger as he heard Felix snicker next to him.

 

“You know what? Fuck you. This game is fucking rigged, this is bullshit,” he shouts after eight rounds, and almost throws the remote against the ground. Felix just laughs at him, absolutely shamelessly.

 

“Man, I told you so.” Minho huffs and crosses his arms, turning away from the other with an angry pout. Felix, still laughing, wraps himself around Minho’s back, dragging him into a hug. “There, there,” he comforts. “We can’t be good at everything.”

 

Minho sighs and leans back into Felix, letting the other hold him as his body relaxes. “Glad to see I’m no longer too moist for you,” he jokes.

 

“That sounds weird, don’t say that,” the younger boy says, loosening his grip on the other.

 

Minho doesn’t let him though, as he holds Felix’s arms back in place. “What? Would you rather that I _do_ be moist for you?”

 

“Okay, no.” Felix rips himself away from Minho and gets off of the couch. “Keep your horniness to yourself, thanks.”

 

Minho opens his mouth to reply right as Felix’s parents enter through the front door. “Felix, come help with the groceries,” his mother shouts. “Oh, hello Minho,” she says warmly after spotting said boy lounging on the couch.

 

“Hello,” Minho replies happily and waves. “How’s it going?”

 

“Good, good,” she answers. “It’s very hot outside.” She hands Felix some of the bags, and takes some herself to bring into the kitchen.

 

“Tell me about it. The AC at my place is broken, which is why I’m here,” Minho explains, groaning.

 

“Oh, that sounds just awful,” Felix’s dad says, finally stepping in and following his wife to the kitchen. “Feel free to stick around here for as long as you’d like,” he says in a friendly way.

 

“Will do.” Minho smiles.

 

After Felix comes back from putting away the groceries, he drags Minho with him to his room so that they won’t have to deal with small talk with his parents. Minho lies down face up on his bed and Felix tries pushing him off of it. “I sleep there, I don’t want your sweaty back on it,” he complains.

 

“Shut up, you know you love my sweaty back.”

 

“Except i really, really don’t,” Felix whines. “This is the kind of reward I get for all of my kindness, huh?”

 

Minho gets an idea, and maybe it’s a bad one. He’s always been known to be flirty with his friends, and nobody really makes it into a big deal. He doesn’t often tease Felix like that though, just because he isn’t quite as close to him in the same way that he is with some of his other friends. He’s really curious to know how far he could push it with the younger boy, though.

 

He grabs Felix’s arm and pulls him down so that their faces are only a couple of inches apart and whispers, “What kind of reward would you prefer?” He tries his best to make his gaze as seductive as possible, and it seemingly works as Felix tries to pull away, looking flustered.

 

He only manages to distance himself a couple of more inches, as Minho’s still holding onto his arm. “What?” he stutters. “The kind of reward I’d prefer is to have some basic respect in my own house.” He finally manages to rip his arm away. “You’re impossible,” he sighs, having recollected himself, which disappoints Minho.

 

“It’s what I do best,” he replies with a laugh. Minho’s kind of frustrated though, he wants more of a reaction from Felix, but he doesn’t know how to while also staying reasonable. He gets an idea. “Let’s make a deal, Felix. I’ll keep my sweaty self off of your stuff, and all I ask in return is one favor.”

 

Felix looks at him skeptically. “Why do I have to give you something just so that you do the decent thing?” He crosses his arms while pouting. “What do you want?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Minho sticks his tongue out. “But I’ll cash it in before I leave today.”

 

Felix sighs heavily and rubs his temples. “Fine. I’m not gonna do it if it’s too ridiculous, though.”

 

“Don’t worry, I am a man of reason,” Minho says and gets off of the other’s bed.

 

Felix only responds by laughing. “Yeah, right. You, Minho, a man of reason.” Minho actually gets offended for a whole second before he realizes that Felix is right. He is not a man of reason. Nobody has to know that, though.

 

“Whatever, you’re not any better,” he argues and sits down on the floor against the wall, where he’s pretty sure Felix _won’t_ complain.

 

Felix sits down on his bed facing minho, kicking his dangling feet lightly. “Yes, I absolutely am. Who absolutely wrecked your ass in Mario Kart not too long ago?”

 

“Listen” Minho starts, refraining himself from making a joke about the ‘wrecked your ass’ part. “Mario Kart has _nothing_ to do with logic. It’s just pure luck.”

 

“Nuh-uh.” Felix furrows his eyebrows. “If it was about pure luck then how did you lose so badly every single time? Why are some people always better than others? It’s not pure luck.”

 

“That’s just because I happen to be unlucky and you happen to be super lucky,” he argues, knowing that he’s completely wrong, but not willing to admit it.

 

“That’s bullshit, I’m not even lucky in general,” Felix sighs, dropping down to lay on his back, feet still dangling.

 

Minho raises a brow. “Uh, excuse me. Yes you are. For one, you got extremely lucky in the genetic department.”

 

Felix props himself back up just to look at Minho with a raised brow. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well,” Minho starts, “First of all, you’re good at so many things, like dancing and rapping and just being creative in general. Second, your body is great for sports and being physically fit, I mean look at your _abs._ ” He points towards where Felix’s abs are supposed to be, though they aren’t exactly on display, covered by a white t-shirt. “Finally, you’re just good looking in general. Your face looks like it belongs to an angel. And those freckles? _Boy,_ you’ve got every single girl at school falling for you, and even some of the boys too!” When Minho’s done, he looks at Felix’s face, and the younger is blushing.

 

“Wh-” He hesitates, not being able to find the right words. “I mean, I’m happy that you think that, and thank you,” he says shyly. “I could say the same for you though, Minho. You’re also lucky on many levels. You’re even much more attractive than me, honestly.”

 

Minho laughs. He opens his mouth to say something, right before he gets interrupted by Felix’s mom. “Hey boys,” she yells through the house. “Do you want some watermelon?”

 

Felix immediately bounces off of his bed and bursts through the door. Minho follows him quickly, because hell _yeah_ he wants to have some juicy, refreshing, cold watermelon on this hell of a day.

 

When he gets there, Felix’s mom hands him a platter with a bunch of watermelon slices on them. “You two go eat those on the back porch, I don’t feel like cleaning up any mess that you might create inside.” And so Minho follows Felix out the back door, where there’s a cute table with a couple of seats around it. Felix sits down and puts the platter on the table, and Minho takes the seat right next to him.

 

“Hey, uh. Do you guys have, like, anything that creates shade?” Minho asks, because right now the sun is shining straight onto them and there’s nothing to protect him. It’s really fucking hot.

 

Felix hums, “We used to have a parasol somewhere around here, but we had an incident last winter with it and we were too lazy to get a new one,” he explains, taking one of the watermelon slices and taking a big bite out of it.

 

Minho sighs and does the same. “Isn’t this how you get freckles? By staying in the sun for too long?” he asks.

 

“Yeah!” Felix replies with his mouth full, a drop of watermelon escaping his mouth. Minho wants to wipe it for him, but Felix does it himself. “I got mine by sleeping in the sun too much. In my defense, it feels really nice.”

 

“I’m sure it must,” Minho says, then finishes his current slice and grabs another one. They’re silent for a while, there’s only the sound of distant traffic and kids (Minho doesn’t get how they can still go out and play in this heat) as well the sound of them slurping on their watermelons to fill their ears. Minho takes a look at Felix, and sees that he’s got a trail of watermelon juice going down his arm, dangerously close to dripping on his white shirt. He contemplates for a moment whether or not he should warn the other, but decides not to, because he’s just like that.

 

The drop goes down on Felix’s shirt, and the boy doesn’t even notice. It makes Minho think, though. What if there were _more_ drops of watermelon juice on his shirt. Would he be able to see the abs that he knows the younger is hiding? He thinks it would look hot. Almost as hot as the sun beating down on their bodies right now.

 

Minho thinks the heat is getting to him, because all of a sudden, the way Felix eats his watermelon becomes oddly erotic. The slurping, the messy way he eats it, not even bothered by the way the juice gets all over his face and hands, and Minho gets the urge to lick it off of him. He wonders what kind of combination the taste of watermelon juice and Felix’s sweat would create. Felix himself looks beautiful. Minho wasn’t lying about his good looks earlier, and the sun shining down on him makes him look all the more radiant and warm. Not that Minho really need any more warmth at the moment, but if it’s Felix’s, somehow he wouldn’t mind.

 

Another drop of watermelon juice falls onto Felix’s shirt before Minho says, “We should have probably gotten napkins.” He checks out his own messy hands, not sure what to do with them.

 

Felix laughs through a mouthful of watermelon, and after swallowing says, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Kind of too late now, though. Besides, we would have gotten messy either way. Might as well.”

 

Minho hums. “You’ve got watermelon on your shirt.” He points to the forming stains.

 

Felix just shrugs. “Whatever, it’s not like this is my only white shirt.”

 

That statement makes Minho smirk, because now he has an idea. Again, this is a very bad idea, and it’ll only work if Felix agrees. Minho thinks he probably shouldn’t do this, but it’s really hot and he’s kind of horny so how could anyone _possibly_ blame him for his poor judgement?

 

“Hey, I want to cash in that favor,” he says, putting his eaten slice of watermelon down.

 

“Okay, what is it?” Felix asks, quickly licking some juice off of his hands, which doesn’t help Minho at _all_.

 

“I want to taste the watermelon,” Minho answers, sweet smile on his face.

 

Felix blinks. “But you just had some. You can literally just grab another piece if you want.” he pouts in confusion, and it’s really adorable.

 

“No, I want to taste it on your lips,” he says boldly, praying that Felix doesn’t take it too badly.

 

Said boy stares at him for a second and then starts to flush, face becoming almost as red as the watermelon itself, though it might also just be because of the heat. “You what? Are you,” he pauses, scanning Minho’s face, “implying you want to… kiss-”

 

“Kiss, yes,” Minho finishes the sentence with him, then just stares at Felix, waiting for an answer.

 

“Are you serious?” the boy asks. “Is this for real?” When Minho nods, no trace of any kind of joke found in his eyes, Felix let’s out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I don’t really know how to do that, though.”

 

Minho looks at him skeptically. “What do you mean? You’ve had girlfriends before.”

 

Felix sighs and says, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I really knew what I was doing when we were supposed to be kissing. I’m not great at this.”

 

Minho gets up from his chair to straddle Felix, placing his wrists on his shoulders, not his hands, because he doesn’t want to mess up his shirt some more just yet. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Minho purrs and he feels the boy beneath him shudder.

 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Felix brings his hands up between their chests, and Minho stops all movements. If Felix doesn’t want to do this, then he won’t do it. “Why do you want to kiss me?” he asks shyly.

 

“I already told you, you’re attractive,” Minho giggles. “That and also I’m getting kind of delirious in this heat.”

 

“I think I’m also getting kind of delirious,” Felix replies warily. “Okay.” He looks Minho in the eyes expectantly, and the elder leans in slowly until their lips touch.

 

Somehow, Felix’s lips feel both cool and also hot against Minho’s own. It feels good though, really good. The lips are both somehow rough but also very, very soft, and they’re definitely sweet. It must be thanks to the watermelon, but there’s surely something else about them that makes Minho want to push himself against Felix harder, to chase after that unknown sweetness.

 

They break apart a tiny bit, breathing heavily, then Minho licks the younger boy’s lips. Felix gasps and Minho smirks. He uses his tongue to sweep over all the areas of Felix’s mouth, collecting remnants of the watermelon. When he doesn’t find anymore, he pulls away and grabs another slice of it, bringing it to Felix’s mouth. “Eat,” he orders.

 

Felix does as he’s told, and Minho wants to tell him that he’s a good boy, but he resists, not wanting to make this weirder than it already is. The juice drips down Minho’s arms, pooling on Felix’s abdomen. Finding the feeling of the dripping annoying, Minho uses his other hand to wipe his arm, and then he wipes that hand on Felix’s shirt, who grunts. “Hey, what the fuck.”

 

Minho shoves the watermelon in his mouth more, effectively shutting him up, but also unnecessarily making it rub against the whole of Felix’s lower face. “Don’t worry about it,” he emptily reassures, aware of the fact that it doesn’t make Felix feel any better. The juice dribbles down his chin, and Minho places his hand underneath it to make Felix look him in the eyes.

 

He moves the eaten piece of watermelon away and leans back into the other boy again. He kisses him sweetly and licks his mouth again, but this time he doesn’t stop just there. He licks Felix’s cheeks, the areas covered by the juice, and then he licks and kisses along his chin, following a thin pink trail down all the way to his neck and collarbone. If anybody wanted to know what watermelon mixed with Felix’s sweat tastes like, it tastes like watermelon and sweat. Sweet and salty. Intoxicating.

 

Minho wants to devour Felix the same way they devoured that watermelon. With ease, with excitement. He knows he shouldn’t do that, but he lets himself indulge a little longer. He moves his sticky hands to Felix’s chest and plants them there, letting the watermelon juice seep through the fabric. Felix groans, but Minho bets that it’s only because he’s nibbling against the nape of his neck.

 

As his final act, Minho pulls away again and grabs one of the last slices of watermelon. He brings it to his own mouth, and makes a show of eating it. He deliberately let’s it drip all over his hands and arms, all the way down to Felix’s shirt. Felix looks at him, half dazed and half in disbelief. He finally laughs dryly, bringing his hands up to his already sticky face. “Minho,” he whines in his low voice. “You’re unbearable. Completely rude and disrespectful.”

 

Minho giggles and says, “I know.” He finishes the slice and once again brings his hands down to wipe them against the white t-shirt underneath him, taking his sweet time feeling up the muscles underneath. Felix doesn’t even try to fight it, he just stares at the hands.

 

Minho is _so_ satisfied.

 

They kiss some more, then decide to go back inside shortly, not wanting to die of a heat stroke. When his dad asks him what in the hell happened for him to be covered in juice like that, Felix just says that they got into a food fight. His father just sighs and mutters something about kids being kids.

 

“Did you like it?” Minho asks with a twinkle in his eye when they make it back to Felix’s room.

 

Felix blushes and says, “I definitely don’t like how I’m all gross and sticky now.”

 

“Okay, but did you like _it_ ,” Minho asks again more pointedly.

 

“Yes,” Felix answers in a voice so tiny that Minho almost doesn’t catch it. “Now leave my fucking house, I have to shower.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Minho winks and Felix groans. “But it’s still so early. You wouldn’t send me back to my house already would you? Felix, please, it’s hot as hell in there.” He pouts at his friend, who only rolls his eyes.

 

“I know for a fact that you’re turning my _own_ house into hell, Minho. Your disrespect has no end, huh?”

 

Felix does let Minho stay longer, after making them wash up as much as possible. Later in the evening, Minho disrespects Felix again during another make out session, shamelessly licking Felix’s cheeks despite the fact that there’s no watermelon juice on him. Felix complains but Minho _swears_ that he tastes something sweet on him.

**Author's Note:**

> i truly hate summer honestly i dont need this kind of heat in my life. it ruins everything. and also all of my clothes are made for the fall winter and spring so like??????? i dont even get to wear anything cool.
> 
> anyway can yall believe that theres pretty much no felix/minho fics?? felho? minlix?? minlix. theres like no minlix. sorry that i had to fill the tag with whatever THIS is but if you've made it this far i hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> stay hydrated, kids!!!


End file.
